Chapter 54: Avraham the Gardener Searches for Baruch and Finds Him

00:01 We continue the story of young Baruch, who, as we know, has been wandering among the towns around Liozna and Vitebsk. Baruch grew up in Vitebsk, the son of Shneur Zalman and Rachel. Now, after several years of wandering, he has returned to his hometown, still thirsty to learn more and more Torah. Baruch knew that to advance in Torah study, he needed to learn from great scholars. Here in Vitebsk, the yeshiva offered him the opportunity to learn a great deal from its heads, Rabbi Paltiel and Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, Baruch’s brother-in-law. But when it came to good deeds and good character, Baruch knew that one need not learn specifically from great scholars. Even simple Jews could teach him good character. In the course of his travels, Baruch had many opportunities to discover the inner lives of simple Jews, and he learned a great deal from them. They were living examples for him of how a simple tradesman could reach an exceptionally high level of righteousness. In truth, though, Baruch had not needed to wander from town to town to see the purity of these Jewish souls. He still carried a vivid memory of a Jew in Vitebsk itself who had made a deep impression on him in early childhood. This was when his parents were still alive and lived at the edge of the city, not far from the Dvina River. Three houses away lived Avraham the fisherman, whom everyone in the neighborhood, and in the city too, called Avreimel Shpah. He had been given that nickname because his lower lip was thicker and more prominent than his upper lip, with a distinctive reddish color. Avreimel earned his living catching fish in the river and selling them. He was a very simple Jew. He knew little beyond how to pray, and even after much effort, he could barely understand the meaning of the words of the familiar prayers. At the same time, he had great yiras Shamayim. Morning and evening, Avreimel would

03:14 come early to shul and stay late, praying with deep concentration. Afterward, he would remain in shul and listen to classes in Ein Yaakov or Midrash, or sit in a corner and recite chapters of Tehillim with deep concentration. Avreimel’s sons had become Torah scholars, because he had spent a great deal of money to send them to the best teachers and, later, to yeshiva. His sons died during his lifetime, leaving him grandchildren. Avreimel raised his grandchildren and sent them, too, to good teachers, making every effort to ensure that they grew up to be Torah scholars. Avreimel the fisherman was careful not only in matters between a person and Hashem, but also in matters between one person and another. He gave tzedakah far beyond his means. Etched in Baruch’s memory was the sight of Avraham the fisherman appearing by their window on summer Shabbosos to listen to Baruch’s mother, Rachel, reading the Tzena Urena aloud. The neighborhood women would gather inside the house to listen, while Avreimel, the only man listening, stood on the other side of the window, enjoying every word. He knew no more than the women inside, so the stories suited him and added to his knowledge. Some people looked down on Avraham the fisherman, sometimes with a smile, for daring to join a women’s Chumash lesson. As a child, Baruch felt compassion for this Jew, who was not embarrassed to learn Torah from a woman. He also admired Avreimel’s intense eagerness to hear words of Torah. Avreimel caught fish in the river and sold them himself to customers at the market. Whatever was left over, he took home and sold to his neighbors for only half price, since they were poor people. To the poorest of them, he gave fish for free. Once, Avraham left the sale of the fish he had brought back from the market in the hands of his family, after making sure they would follow his practice: selling the fish cheaply and giving them

06:04 to the poorest people without payment. But it happened that, by mistake, a customer was charged a few extra coins. Among that day’s customers was a farmer from out of town who had happened into the neighborhood, and no one knew him. When Avraham came home and learned what had happened, he was deeply distressed. He resolved to do everything he could to return the money taken by mistake, but no one knew who the customer was. His family did not know whether it had been one of the Jewish neighbors or the non-Jew who had come to buy fish and then disappeared with his purchase. Avreimel went from house to house throughout the neighborhood, asking how much each person had paid for the fish, trying to find out who had been overcharged. His efforts revealed nothing, so he had to conclude that it must have been the unknown non-Jew. But where could he find him to return the extra coins? No one knew him; no one knew where he had come from or where he had gone. Avreimel would not rest or stop trying to find him, but he did not succeed. So Avreimel came to Rabbi Shneur Zalman, Baruch’s father, who was the Torah scholar of the neighborhood, and asked him, “Please tell me what to do. This money was taken wrongfully and is in my possession, and I may not benefit from it.” It was clear how deeply distressed he was. Yet he could not simply throw the money away, because of the prohibition against wastefulness. Rabbi Shneur Zalman suggested giving the money to tzedakah, but Avreimel was not satisfied with that suggestion: it would make the non-Jew his partner in the mitzvah. And so Avreimel remained perplexed and torn. Baruch did not remember what Avraham ultimately did with the extra coins, but he did remember that his father often spoke about the incident and expressed

08:22 great admiration for that simple, sincere fisherman. Baruch also remembered what his father would say in this connection, citing the teaching of our Sages in Chullin, 92a: unlearned people are compared to the leaves of a grapevine, which protect its fruit. The fruit represents the Torah scholars, and the simple people are the leaves. Baruch’s father would conclude, “Fortunate is the Torah scholar who cultivates within himself the sincerity and kindheartedness of simple Jews.” From that day on, Rabbi Shimon Zalman called the fisherman “Reb Avraham” as a mark of respect. Thus, from childhood, Baruch knew that he had much to learn from simple Jews. He also knew that he must always strive to delve deeper and deeper into the sea of Torah, while looking to simple Jews to learn from their good deeds and kind hearts. Indeed, when he left Vitebsk to wander the country, he had resolved that however much he grew in Torah, he would always keep company with simple Jews. Among other things, this gave rise to his firm decision always to earn his bread through the work of his own hands. Now Baruch was back in Vitebsk. He was still far from satisfied with himself. He was not content with the Torah he had learned during his travels, or with the good character he had cultivated. He wanted to keep climbing the ladder of achievement. This time, though, he had the strength to do so on his own. Baruch’s path in life was clear to him, and no one could persuade him to turn away from it. On the face of it, his life centered on two worlds: the world of Torah and the world of work. For Baruch, they were one world, bound together by one spirit. When Baruch sat and studied Torah, it was the world he lived in. The Tannaim and Amoraim with whom he debated, discussed and reasoned stood before him as though alive, as though they were beside him in flesh and blood. When he went out to the market to

10:56 To earn his living through hard work, Baruch immersed himself in his work—not halfheartedly, but as something he valued and did wholeheartedly, knowing that he earned every penny honestly and in a kosher way. In this way, a perfect harmony developed within Baruch between his spiritual and physical lives, between the world of the soul and the material world, between body and soul, between heaven and earth. For him, it was all one whole, permeated with holiness and purity. Did anyone understand Baruch’s spirit? Was anyone capable of reaching into the depths of his soul? Baruch did not want anyone taking an interest in him. Until then, only one person had managed, for a moment, to glimpse his inner soul: Rabbi Avraham the gardener of Liozna. But now Baruch was quite far from Liozna, and from Rabbi Avraham, from whom he had learned much, both in Torah and in good deeds. Would their paths cross again? It is hard to say that Baruch thought about this during his first days back in Vitebsk. He had originally intended to go to Beshenkovichi to study Torah with Rabbi Avraham’s teacher, but now he had decided to remain in Vitebsk. It would seem, then, that his path and Rabbi Avraham the gardener’s would go their separate ways entirely. But Divine Providence, guided by the Creator, arranged things differently. If Baruch was not thinking about Rabbi Avraham then, Rabbi Avraham had not forgotten Baruch. Baruch did not know that while he sat peacefully in Vitebsk studying Torah, someone in Liozna—the town he had suddenly left on the eve of Pesach—was deeply distressed and increasingly worried by his disappearance. That person was Rabbi Avraham the gardener, whom Baruch had befriended: Baruch had first worked for him, and later become his study partner. That eve of Pesach, when Rabbi Avraham the gardener discovered that Baruch had left Liozna without leaving any trace, he could not explain

13:47 to himself what was going on. Did it mean that Baruch refused to eat at his table? Rabbi Avraham had been paying close attention to Baruch for some time. In fact, he knew just about everything there was to know about him. First, Rabbi Avraham knew that Baruch was a great Torah scholar and a tzaddik. He also knew of Baruch’s firm resolve to live only by the work of his own hands. And he knew where Baruch came from—his family and birthplace. Despite Baruch’s reluctance to speak, Rabbi Avraham had gradually managed to learn from him about his distinguished family, originally from Poznan, and that he had been born and raised in Vitebsk, in a house on the edge of town not far from the banks of the Dvina River. Rabbi Avraham, whose own approach and way of life were not far from Baruch’s, felt a strong bond with him. Since Rabbi Avraham had a grown daughter, the thought took shape that Baruch would be a very suitable husband for his daughter Rivkah. She was young, talented and had many fine qualities, and in Rabbi Avraham’s view there could be no more fitting match. But throughout that time he had not dared to discuss it directly with Baruch. He knew well how Baruch approached everything in his own distinctive way. He had not even managed to find out whether Baruch was willing to marry at all. So, as an experienced and practical man, Rabbi Avraham decided that he first needed to bring Baruch closer to himself and his family. That was why he invited Baruch to join him at the Yom Tov table, hoping he would become like a member of the household. During the Seders and the other meals, Baruch would get to know the family better, and Rabbi Avraham would then feel more comfortable proposing the match. It was precisely for this reason that Baruch’s sudden disappearance affected Rabbi Avraham so deeply. Did it mean that Baruch had sensed Rabbi Avraham’s plans and had decided, for that very reason, to leave Liozna? If so, his departure might itself be taken as Baruch’s answer

16:17 to Rabbi Avraham’s idea. But Rabbi Avraham knew very well that Baruch might have had other reasons for leaving, entirely unrelated to the proposed match, and so he could not stop thinking about him. Rabbi Avraham decided that he must find Baruch at any cost and bring him back from wherever he might be to Liozna, to become his son-in-law. But how could he do that? During the summer, Rabbi Avraham and a new partner continued leasing orchards. One of these orchards was a great distance from Liozna. When harvest time came, his partner suggested that Rabbi Avraham take the fruit to Vitebsk, the only large city in the area, where they could get a good price for it. To the surprise of his partner, who had thought it would be difficult to persuade him, Rabbi Avraham agreed. He intended to use the trip to look for Baruch as well. Rabbi Avraham was certain that, based on the details Baruch himself had told him, he would be able to find him there. And indeed, as soon as Rabbi Avraham had sold the fruit—at good prices, by the way—and quickly finished his business, he set out through Vitebsk to search for Baruch. Remembering what Baruch had once told him about the Dvina River and the nearby neighborhood where he had grown up, he hurried there to conduct his search, but without any result. He found no trace of Baruch, and Rabbi Avraham was disappointed. Even so, he did not give up hope of finding him. He visited Vitebsk several times over the summer, but nothing came of it. Rabbi Avraham decided to travel to his teacher, Rabbi Avraham Zev, in Beshenkovichi and consult him about whether to continue searching for Baruch or find another husband for his daughter. Rabbi Avraham Zev was more than a teacher to Rabbi Avraham the gardener: he had raised him in his youth and had also taken the trouble

18:55 to arrange his marriage. On this matter, Rabbi Avraham Zev advised him to continue looking for Baruch for a while and, if his efforts did not succeed by then, to seek another match for his daughter. While in Beshenkovichi, Rabbi Avraham happened to meet a yeshivah student from Vitebsk. The student spoke highly of his teacher, the head of the yeshivah, the brilliant Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak—who, as we know, though Rabbi Avraham did not yet know it, was Baruch’s brother-in-law. Neither the student nor Rabbi Avraham knew of the connection between Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak and Baruch. The student also knew nothing of Rabbi Avraham’s search. Nevertheless, Rabbi Avraham decided that on his next visit to Vitebsk he would try to see Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak. And indeed, the following winter Rabbi Avraham visited Vitebsk and met him. At first it did not occur to him to ask Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak about Baruch, but during their conversations Baruch’s name came up. Then, to Rabbi Avraham’s great joy, it emerged that Baruch was in fact Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak’s brother-in-law, and that he was in Vitebsk, living as he always had. Rabbi Avraham immediately explained to Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, with great happiness, the purpose of his trip. Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak told him that, as far as the match was concerned, he would have to speak to Baruch himself. He had long known that Baruch was not someone who could be swayed by others. But where could they find Baruch, when even his own relatives saw him only very rarely? Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak knew which beis midrash he studied in. Rabbi Avraham hurried there at once and sat down to study. Before long, Baruch appeared in the beis midrash. To Rabbi Avraham’s surprise, Baruch—usually cool and reserved—greeted him this time with warmth and affection, and they embraced and kissed each other. “All the time that has passed

21:33 since you disappeared, I’ve been looking for you,” Rabbi Avraham told Baruch. “I was deeply distressed when you vanished from Liozna without leaving any trace.” But Rabbi Avraham needed no further explanation. The friendship Baruch showed him, and the warmth he felt from him, made it clear that the bond between them was mutual. Rabbi Avraham now saw that his efforts had not been in vain. But the question remained: would Baruch actually agree to the proposed match? The conversation would have to be handled very carefully, as Baruch’s brother-in-law, Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak, had advised. Rabbi Yosef Yitzchak also tried to prepare Baruch for the conversation Rabbi Avraham was about to have with him. Baruch listened attentively, and when Rabbi Avraham spoke with him and proposed that he become his son-in-law, Baruch agreed—though he set certain conditions characteristic of him and the distinctive path he followed.